The Memoirs of Harriette Wilson, Volumes One and Two: Written by HerselfWilson, Harriette
General
The Memoirs of Harriette Wilson, Volumes One and Two: Written by Herself
Wilson, Harriette
Courtesans -- Great Britain -- Biography; Wilson, Harriette, 1786-1846
Worcester was over head and ears in debt, and on this subject the duke
was eternally lecturing, as in duty bound; declaring for his own part he
had never, when he was Marquis of Worcester, exceeded his allowance or
incurred a single debt.
I do not mean to dwell on the subject of Worcester's love, and
Worcester's devoted attentions to me, as I can conceive nothing more
uninteresting. His love never varied the least in the world, nor did we
ever quarrel.
We returned once more to Brighton, and after continuing there for about
two months, Worcester's troop was ordered to be stationed in a small
village near Portsmouth, to guard the prisoners.
Quintin offered him the choice of changing his troop; but Worcester
said if I did not mind passing a short time at a wretched little
village, he would much rather not leave it.
I was perfectly willing to accompany him; and, on the day appointed
for our leaving Brighton, four post-horses were put to Worcester's
travelling chariot, which was to carry me to our destination. The
distance was about forty miles, and the troop with the Duc de Guiche,
Worcester, and Lord Arthur Hill, were to rest one night on the road.
I never once entered the carriage; but rode in a line with the officers
dressed in my regimental cap and habit like a little recruit. We all
lodged together in the same deplorable pot-house. Our bedroom served us
for parlour, kitchen, and hall, and we dined together in the only spare
room there was, in this apology for an inn, furnished exactly in the
usual style of such places; to wit, twelve immense, high-backed, black
leather chairs, too heavy for anybody except Bankhead to move; and the
wainscot adorned with such pictures as a fox-chase, and then the Virgin
Mary; and, cheek-by-jowl with that holy woman, Bellingham, the murderer
of Perceval; next a print of King George the Third, in his parliamentary
robes; a county map; the Holy Apostles, sitting at the Last Supper, and
a poll parrot, done in what is, I believe, usually called cloth-work;
plenty of sand on the floor, and plenty of wine-glasses, tooth-picks,
and cruets on the sideboard.
It poured of rain every day and all day long, during the first fortnight
of our residence in this earthly paradise; and we further enjoyed the
most exquisite odours which had been accumulating, time out of mind,
from beer and tobacco! The weather also being windy as well as rainy,
the sign-board, on which was depicted a flaming red bear, danced more
merrily than musically at our window.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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